


Just a Jump To The Left (or, Five Ways Marius and Grantaire Didn’t Meet)

by fangirl_squee



Series: homies help homies, always [40]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:37:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A jail cell, boarding school, an alleyway, band practise, a Les Amis meeting - if you're supposed to be friends, the universe has a way of making that happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Jump To The Left (or, Five Ways Marius and Grantaire Didn’t Meet)

**Author's Note:**

> It’s my birthday this month, so I wrote this incredibly self-indulgent au five things fic as a gift to myself (if your birthday is in October and you also like aus/~*~platonic soulmates~*~ then, TA DA THIS IS ALSO A FIC FOR YOU).
> 
> beta'd by the wonderful tumblr user besanii

_1\. Jail Cell_

Grantaire is drifting off to sleep when someone is thrown into his cell, almost pushing him off the narrow bench. Luckily, Grantaire’s edging more towards sober now, so he’s able to catch himself before he falls to the floor.

 

“Sorry, sorry!” says the kid.

 

“S’alright,” says Grantaire, steadying himself. “That was a pretty dramatic entrance.”

 

“Was it?” asks the kid nervously.

 

“First time in overnight holding?” says Grantaire. If he’s got to share the cell until he gets released in the morning, he might as well try to be on good terms.

 

“First time being arrested ever.”

 

Grantaire laughs. “Well, at least this won’t be too terrible then. What are you in for?”

 

The kid grins sheepishly. “I punched a police officer in the face. Well, campus police.”

 

Grantaire whistles. “Well, that’d do it. What made a previously upstanding citizen such as yourself do such a thing?”

 

“We were that rally, the one at the university campus? And things got a little rocky – I mean, more than they usually do – and I couldn’t just stand there and let Cosette get arrested – I mean, her father’s a professor and Javert already gives him a hard time as it is, and I know how much that bothers her. I just wanted to cause a distraction and I couldn’t think of anything else, I guess?” His voice gets higher and faster as he speaks.

 

Grantaire laughs. “So it’s about a girl, huh?”

 

“No, it’s about the unjust principles of society!” Grantaire laughs again. “Okay, so maybe it was a little about Cosette.”

 

“And is she going to pick you up for a thank you tomorrow?”

 

Even in the dark cell, Grantaire can see his face go bright pink. “I don’t think so, I mean, I’m not so great at the whole talking thing around her. I think maybe I’ve managed to get a few sentences out, but I don’t even think they made any sense, and – I’m sorry, I don’t mean to completely unload my whole life on you, sorry.”

 

“Nah, that’s okay,” says Grantaire

 

He holds out his hand. “Marius Pontmercy.”

 

Grantaire smiles as he shakes Marius’ hand. “Grantaire.”

 

“So,” says Marius, “what are _you_ in for Grantaire?”

 

“Nothing as glamorous as you I’m afraid,” says Grantaire, “drunk and disorderly.”

 

“Oh,” says Marius.

 

“Nothing serious, things just got a bit out of hand at the bar I was at. So tell me more about this girl, how long have you been so hopelessly in love with her?”

 

“Well, I saw her for the first time about six months ago, so I’ve been in love with her for, um, about six months? Pretty much since the first moment I met her, actually,” says Marius. He drops his head into his hands. “I sound pathetic don’t I? I can’t even talk to her, like, every time I get near her all I can think of is how she’s about ten billion times too good for me – I mean, I don’t even have anywhere to _live_ , how am I ever supposed to get my life together enough to be even remotely good enough for someone like Cosette?”

 

Grantaire frowns. “Wait what do you mean, you don’t have anywhere to live?”

 

Marius looks up, and then quickly becomes more interested with the corner of their cell. “Oh, I’m kind of just couch-surfing at the moment? I mean, it’s a step up from living out of my car, so –”

 

“I have a spare room at mine, if you’re interested,” says Grantaire. “I mean, if you need a place and don’t mind accepting offers from strange men in jail cells.”

 

Marius laughs. “You don’t seem that strange. Is it close to the university? Maybe I could call you about it or something, when we get out of here?”

 

“It’s pretty close, I mean, I walk to class,” says Grantaire.

 

“Oh, cool, what are you studying,” says Marius.

 

“Art and history, you?”

 

“Political science,” says Marius.

 

“Well, that explains the rally then,” says Grantaire.

 

Marius grins at him, and Grantaire finds himself grinning back. They talk almost non-stop until they’re released the next morning. Grantaire usually hates overnight holding, but he didn’t really mind it this time. They both stagger out to fill out the paperwork, and Marius ends up falling asleep on Grantaire’s shoulder while they wait together for Marius’ ride home.

 

Marius calls him that night, and moves in the next day. He drags Grantaire to meetings and rallies and it’s not the last time they end up in a jail cell together but, as long as they can laugh together while they’re there, Grantaire doesn’t mind.

 

 

_2\. Boarding School_

Grantaire keeps his eyes up as he heads into the dining hall for the first time. He can hear the other kids whispering about him, and he knows by now that rumours are flying thick and fast. Apparently one of them overheard his parents explaining how he’d been expelled from his last school. So far he’s heard that he tried to burn down the school, that he punched a teacher in the face, and that he sold drugs.

 

 _Whatever_ , thinks Grantaire, glaring.

 

Grantaire gets his food, and goes to sit down at an empty table by the window. The food’s better than he was expecting, but he’s not really hungry. He starts doodling absentmindedly on his napkin instead.

 

“That’s really good,” says a voice behind him.

 

Grantaire manages not to jump, but it’s a near thing. He looks up, fully prepared to tell whoever it is to _leave him the hell alone_. The boy looking back at him is younger by a few years, and looks so incredibly sincere Grantaire can’t bring himself to yell.

 

“It’s nothing,” Grantaire says.

 

“If you think that’s what nothing looks like you should see my work for art class,” says the boy, setting his tray down, “I think I might be the first student in the history of this school to fail art.”

 

“Art’s all subjective,” Grantaire says.

 

“Exactly! And I think yours looks good,” says the other boy, grinning. The grin fades quickly as he spots something behind Grantaire, and he looks down at his food.

 

Grantaire turns in his seat, watching as four boys approach them. They walk past, and one of them flicks the other boy’s head. It looks like it hurt.

 

“Hey,” says Grantaire, “watch it.”

 

The four boys turn in unison. “Why?” says one, “what are _you_ going to do about it?”

 

Grantaire grins wide. “Teach you some manners.”

 

Which is how, ten minutes later, he ends up sitting outside the principal’s office. His face throbs in time with his heartbeat as his parents get called. They’re “very disappointed in him” but manage to keep him in the school. Convincing people of something untrue is, after all, their job.

 

When he gets out the boy who’d sat across from him is hovering outside. “Hello! Um, I don’t have long, I’m supposed to be in chemistry and I said I was just going to the bathroom, but I wanted to thank you, for before. You didn’t have to do that. Not that I think you did it for me, or anything.”

 

“They were being dicks, it’s no problem,” says Grantaire.

 

The boy fidgets and awkwardly sticks out a hand. “Marius Pontmercy. I mean, that’s my name. Since you don’t know it.”

 

Grantaire stares at the hand for a second before he laughs, and shakes it. “I’m Grantaire.”

 

There’s a noise behind the principal’s door, and Marius twitches. “I’ve got to get back to class. See you later!”

 

Grantaire seeks him out later, after class. The whole ‘sleeping at school’ thing is still pretty weird to him, but Marius has been here practically his whole life. They wander around the school to help Grantaire get the lay of the land, and he and Marius sneak out after lights out to look around in the woods nearby. They’re in different years and so they’re never in the same class, but they spend their breaks together, seeing how far they can get away from the school ground before they’re late.

 

When Grantaire graduates two years later, he’s sad to leave Marius behind. He sends Marius a postcard every week with a sketch on it, since he’s not good with words. For his part, Marius makes sporadic calls whenever Grantaire can arrange to be by a phone long enough.

 

When Marius graduates, they head to university together.

 

 

_3\. Alleyway_

Marius runs down the side street at full pace, but he knows it’s not going to be fast enough to outrun the group of guys behind him. He’d been helping Enjolras and Cosette track sources for a story, but unfortunately some sources are more co-operative than others. He’d just wanted to cause a distraction so that Enjolras wouldn’t get punched in the face (again). Apparently he was far better at causing a distraction than he’d thought.

 

Marius’ feet slip as he turns sharply around a corner, and his sense of direction must be getting worse because it’s not the bright main street he was expecting; it’s a dead-end alleyway.

 

 _Oh my god,_ think Marius, _I’m going to die because I have the world’s shittiest sense of direction oh my god_.

 

The group behind him is way too close to go any other way, but there’s still the possibility that he could climb over the wall at the end.

 

He can’t. Once he gets closer it’s obvious the wall is twice his height, and his shaking hands can’t get a grip on the bricks. The group’s leader looms over him. Marius closes his eyes, bracing for the inevitable blow.

 

He can feel the leader’s hot breath on his face. “No more runnin’.”

 

“Yes, I agree,” says a rough voice behind them.

 

Marius can’t quite see what happens next, most of his view is blocked by the group’s leader. There’s a thump, and a crashing noise. When the leader does move, he can see the rest of the group is unconscious on the ground, and standing in front of them is R.

 

R started out as a street artist, but these days he’s got more of a reputation for being vigilante of sorts. The black mask framing his eyes and red boxing tape wrapped around his hands look even more striking that the grainy photographs make it look. He grins at them, his body loose and at ease.

 

The group’s leader releases Marius, stepping forward with palms raised up. “I don’ wan’ any trouble.”

 

“Really,” says R, and his eyebrows raise above the mask, “well, that’s too bad.”

 

The group’s leader lunges for him with a shout. R neatly sidesteps him, but the leader turns, charging again. Marius steps forward, tripping him up, and R uses his imbalance to flip him, slamming him into the ground. The group’s leader gasps, breath rasping, as he flails on the ground. R regards him for a moment, before delivering a swift kick to his head.

 

R looks over to Marius. “It’s okay, he’s not dead. I just thought it’d probably go easier if you didn’t have to outrun him on the way home.”

 

“Uh, yeah. Thanks for,” Marius gestures towards the unconscious men, “you know.”

 

R laughs. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for the assistance …?”

 

Marius offers a hand. “Marius Pontmercy.”

 

R pauses a moment before shaking Marius’ hand, a quick brush of their palms. “I’m R. But I guess you already knew that.”

 

Marius grins at him. “Well you are kind of famous.”

 

Grantaire grins back. “Am I?”

 

“You were on the cover of the newspaper this week. My, um, friend Enjolras wrote an article about you?”

 

Courfeyrac had been teasing Enjolras about it all week too. It was unusual to see Enjolras get so flustered.

 

“Oh, _that_ article. Well I don’t know if I can truthfully say that I plan to be, what was it, ‘the start of a wave of justice that sweeps the nation’. You should tell your friend not to get so ahead of himself.” R pulls two spray cans out of his pockets. “Did you want to give me a hand with this?”

 

Marius takes care of the unconscious men, spraying slightly wobbly red ‘R’s onto their clothes, while R makes quick work of the wall. It’s his usual design, red flags flapping in the wind. He stands on tiptoes to sign an R at the top as well. Marius hands the can back to him.

 

“Thanks for the help, Marius Pontmercy,” says R, “maybe I’ll see you around some time.”

 

Marius walks home in a daze. He has twelve missed calls and five missed texts, and he answers them as best he can. He doesn’t mention R on the phone; the whole thing feels slightly unreal, tinged by adrenaline. Courfeyrac checks him over as soon as he walks in the door, hands fluttering over Marius as he fusses.

 

Marius finds he can’t sleep, staring up at the ceiling. He can’t stop thinking about meeting R. He was different to Marius would have thought, less like Enjolras than he’d expected, more like a real person. He thinks about the way R had waved off Enjolras’ article and his quick, smooth movements and sharp grin as he fought. He turns over and pulls his laptop out from underneath his bed, bringing up Enjolras’ article. Marius opens and closes Word a few times before starting. He doesn’t need it to be anything special, he just needs to get it down while he’s thinking of it, that’s all – the differences between the fiery proclamations of Enjolras’ article and the real R who’d saved Marius from being beaten to a pulp.

 

The sun’s starting to rise as he finishes it. He stretches his arms over his head, debating whether or not to send it through to the editor. He’s never had anything published, apart from one tiny human interest story about couch surfing services. His mouse pointer hovers between ‘send’ and ‘save to draft’ for a full minute, and he sighs.

 

“I’ll decide later,” he says, and _accidentally clicks send instead_. Marius slaps a hand over his mouth to smother a shriek. “No, no, no, no,” whispers Marius to himself, “stupid buttons being so close together, why isn’t there a way to get email back after you’ve sent it, oh my god that wasn’t even edited properly, oh my god.”

 

He gets a reply a few hours later: _Much better than your previous efforts, content-wise. I’ve suggested a few changes, take a look and we can talk the through when you get in today._

 

His article, _Don’t Get So Ahead of Yourself_ , gets half of page two in the local news section. Marius feels like he’s blushing all day, especially when Cosette smiles at him and tells him she read it (he avoids Enjolras, but he does get a short email from him asking to “discuss meeting R asap”). When he gets home Courfeyrac has the article up on the fridge with _CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR JOURNALISM!!!!_ written on it with a purple highlighter.

 

When he picks up the paper the next morning, a piece of paper falls out. It’s a cartoony sketch of himself in a red mask. He flips it over, and there’s a note scrawled on the back.

 

_You know, you didn’t do so bad that night yourself – R_

 

_4\. Band_

Enjolras comes back from meeting with a possible pianist replacement red-faced and terrifyingly angry at everyone and everything. Bahorel comes in behind him, looking apologetic. Enjolras stomps over to the pile of old notebooks they’re using to write their lyrics in and pulling one out.

 

“I take it we still do not have a pianist then?” says Combeferre.

 

“No,” snaps Enjolras, “we do not. Bahorel’s friend was a _complete disaster_.”

 

“I thought you said he was good?” says Courfeyrac.

 

Bahorel makes a face. “Yeah, he is, but –“

 

“He wouldn’t even play anything!” says Enjolras, slamming a lyric book open on the table.

 

“To be fair, I did tell you not to bring up politics,” says Bahorel, “and he probably would have responded better if you hadn’t asked him if he could only play ‘empty pop music’.”

 

“Enjolras,” says Combeferre admonishingly.

 

“He started it!” says Enjolras. He’s glaring at the pages.

 

Courfeyrac and Marius exchange a look. Their last pianist, Montparnasse, had quit after an argument with Enjolras. Normally they could have taken their time with auditions, but they had an actual paying gig in less than two weeks.

 

“I guess we’ll just keep looking,” says Marius.

 

Marius hurries to work the next day, tired from late-night practice and seriously wishing he hadn’t agreed to take the late shift at work. He’s practically asleep on his feet when he spots a tiny café down a tiny alleyway.

 

 _Coffee_ , thinks Marius, _thank god_.

 

The place is pretty crowded when he enters, and it might have something to do with the entertainment. A guy his age with dark, curly hair is playing a complicated-sounding jazz number. He’s only glancing down at his hands occasionally as they fly across the keys, grinning at the café’s patrons.

 

Marius checks his watch. He’s got twenty minutes to get to work, and the walk will probably take him ten. That leaves plenty of time to at least _try_ to convince this guy to come to an audition. He’s talented enough that Enjolras should at least consider him, even if Enjolras doesn’t always agree with Marius’ musical taste.

 

The pianist slows down the speed of his playing, melding the song into something softer and slower, and Marius takes that as his cue to approach him.

 

“You’re really talented,” says Marius, by way of an opening.

 

The pianist smiles, looking up at Marius as his hands move across the keys. “Thanks.”

 

“Um, this might sound like a strange request but –“

 

“Sorry, I can’t give you my number,” says the pianist, “café policy.”

 

Marius almost drops his coffee. “What? No, that’s not, I mean, I have a girlfriend, I’m asking on behalf of my band. Well, it’s not _mine_. Wait, I’m not really doing this properly.”

 

The pianist laughs, but it doesn’t seem unkind. “Feel free to start over. I always say you should be able to have a second chance at a first impression.”

 

Marius lets out a breath, trying to release his nerves, and then extends a hand. “Hello, my name is Marius Pontmercy, and I’m part of a band that’s looking for a pianist. You seem to be a very talented pianist, and I was wondering if you would consider coming to an audition?”

 

The pianist shakes his hand, continuing to play with the other. “I’m Grantaire. And sure, I’m only really playing here at the moment, so I’ve got time. What’s your band called?”

 

“Les Amis,” says Marius.

 

“Oh, yeah, I know you guys. I saw you play a couple of weeks ago, you’re one of the guitarists, right?”

 

Marius nods. “I’m kind of surprised you remember me, I’m mostly just back up.”

 

“Of course I remember you. Every part of a musical ensemble is as important as each other, or so my old music teacher used to say,” says Grantaire. “Don’t you guys already have a pianist though?”

 

Marius makes a face. “We did, but he quit a few weeks ago. We haven’t been able to find anyone else, and we have a gig we need to start rehearsing for, like, yesterday.”

 

Grantaire pauses for a moment, finishing the song. “Why did he quit, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 

Marius takes his own pause at that, considering. “It’s…complicated. The short version is that he was an asshole.  The slightly _longer_ short version is that he was an asshole who almost cost us our last gig because he was high and did something stupid.”

 

Grantaire nods, and starts playing again. “Seems fair enough.”

 

“So you’ll come to audition?” asks Marius.

 

Grantaire grins at him. “Sure, why not? Write your number down somewhere and I’ll call you tomorrow, to arrange it?”

 

Marius scribbles down his number onto a napkin. “Thank you, so much, you have no idea. I have to head to work, but I’ll let the other guys know. I’m sure they’ll love you.”

 

Grantaire seems to find that amusing. “Well, I guess we’ll see.”

 

They wave to each other as Marius heads out the door.

 

They arrange for Grantaire’s audition the following evening. Enjolras is pacing, even though Grantaire still has five minutes before he’s officially late. It’s making Marius nervous, and he’s glad Cosette decided to come. He squeezes her hand and she squeezes back, smiling at him. Marius feels better instantly. Cosette said he had a good eye for talent, and Grantaire was defiantly talented.

 

“I’m sure he’ll be here,” says Marius.

 

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door. Marius jumps up to answer it. “Hello! I’m glad you could make it.”

 

“No problem –” Grantaire says.

 

Enjolras makes a strange noise, somewhere between a shout and squawk. “ _You_!”

 

Grantaire waves. “Hello again!”

 

Enjolras stalks up to Grantaire, shoving him a little. “You refused to play for me the other day and now you think you can just turn up here?”

 

Grantaire shoves him back. “You never _asked_ me to play anything for you, you demanded to know a list of songs I _could_ play.”

 

Enjolras crosses him arms, glaring. “So why are you even here?”

 

Marius steps forward. “I saw him playing the other day, in a café. He’s really good Enjolras, at least just listen to him play? I mean, that’s why I asked him to come here after all.”

 

Enjolras lets out an annoyed breath, but steps back to allow Grantaire to move past him to the piano.

 

Grantaire’s hands hover over the keys. “Any requests?”

 

Enjolras glares at him. “You didn’t bring any sheet music?”

 

Grantaire huffs a laugh. “I don’t need any. Marius? Requests?”

 

Marius can feel Enjolras’ glare fall on him. “Oh, um, I don’t know, something classical? Whatever song you like – I mean, it’s your audition.”

 

“Classical, all right. We’ll start with that and go from there.” Grantaire runs his fingers along the keys, before launching into a complicated classical piece, his fingers flying over the keys so fast they’re almost a blur. When he’s finished he pauses to raise an eyebrow at Enjolras, and Marius has to supress a laugh at the look of utter shock on Enjolras’ face.

 

Grantaire grins over at him, and starts playing again, and this time Marius recognises the song properly. Cosette and Courfeyrac start to hum along, and it doesn’t take Bahorel to join in, singing the chorus.

 

_Na nan a nan a nan a nan a nan a hey jude_

 

“All right! All right!” says Combeferre, “I think we can all agree that you have passed this audition with flying colours. _Right_ , Enjolras?”

 

They all look over to Enjolras, who doesn’t look away from Grantaire. “Right.”

 

Marius goes to sit down next to Grantaire on the piano bench. “Welcome to Les Amis! I told you they’d love you.”

 

Grantaire smiles at him. “I don’t know if that’s true of _everyone_.”

 

Marius nudges Grantaire’s shoulder a little with his own. “Enjolras will come around. I think he’s still kind of mad from the other day. Speaking of which, you could have told me he already asked you.”

 

Grantaire nudges him back. “I thought you were some sort of secondary ploy at first, and then it seemed kind of weird to mention it if you didn’t already know.”

 

“Well, now that we’re band mates, I hope you know that we can never lie to each other. Not that I’m a very good liar anyway,” says Marius.

 

Grantaire laughs. “Okay, no lying.”

 

“Can you really play everything without sheet music?” asks Marius.

 

Grantaire shrugs. “Not everything. It’s nothing special, just a good memory. Plus, my sister got totally obsessed with The Beatles when she was like fourteen and wanted me to play their songs non-stop. I could probably play their entire White Album in my sleep.”

 

Marius smiles. “You’ll probably still have to come to all the practice sessions, good memory or not.”

 

“Don’t worry,” says Grantaire, “I’ll be there.”

 

 

_5\. Meeting_

“So that’s Enjolras’ new boyfriend?” says Courfeyrac, keeping his voice low.

 

They’re trying to looking without overtly staring, but from the way Enjolras’ boyfriend is fidgeting nervously Marius thinks they’re probably not doing a very good job.

 

“I thought he wasn’t interested in this stuff, wasn’t Enjolras complaining about it the other day?” whispers Marius.

 

“I guess they must have worked something out,” says Courfeyrac.

 

Marius gets distracted while the others are taking their seats (Cosette’s doing something new with her hair, it seems even more golden than usual), and so the only empty seat is at the back, next to Enjolras’ boyfriend. He’s sketching, not looking up as Combeferre starts things off with a summary of their last meeting.

 

“I didn’t get a chance to say hello earlier, so, um, hello,” says Marius, holding out a hand, “I’m Marius Pontmercy.”

 

“I’m Grantaire.” Grantaire sets his pencil down to shake Marius’ hand.

 

Marius leans over to look at the sketchpad. It’s half-finished, but obviously Enjolras. “That’s really good.”

 

Grantaire shrugs. “It’s not as good as the original, but I’ll keep trying.”

 

Enjolras takes the floor, and they both turn their attention to him. He’s discussing the upcoming rally.

 

“We could ask the local community centre, they’d have contacts with them already from their own fundraising stuff,” suggests Marius.

 

“We could, but it would a be a lot easier to get them involved if we knew someone who was involved with the community centre already. They tend to focus on their own work,” says Enjolras.

 

“Talk about the pot and the kettle,” says Grantaire, too low for anyone but Marius to hear.

 

Marius quickly turns his laugh into a cough, and Grantaire grins at him.

 

After the meeting, Grantaire taps him on the shoulder. “About the community centre, Enjolras is right. They’re so busy, and they get so many requests from people, it does help if you know someone who already works there. But _you_ , Marius Pontmercy, are in luck, because I happen to know someone who does.”

 

“Really, who?” asks Marius.

 

Grantaire grins. “Me. Come by tomorrow afternoon and I’ll get my boss to talk to you about it.”

 

“Don’t you – I mean, I should probably get Enjolras to do it? He’s better at this sort of stuff,” says Marius. He’s never been put in charge of anything for Les Amis, not even flyer distribution. It’s not that the rest of them think he’d be bad at organising things, it’s just that there’s always someone better.

 

“Nah,” says Grantaire, waving a hand, “it was your idea. You should get to do the follow through.” He scrawls the address down on the corner of a piece of sketch paper. “Here.”

 

“Okay, but I still think –” Marius starts to say.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Marius,” Grantaire calls over his shoulder, heading towards Enjolras.

 

The community centre’s main organiser, Joanne, seems to like Marius (even though he’s not quite sure why – he drops all his papers all over the floor during their first meeting, and his tendency to go off on tangents gets turned up to eleven when he’s nervous). He ends up being the official liaison between Les Amis and the local businesses.

 

When Marius tells him, Grantaire grins at him. “I told you you’d be great at the follow through.”

 

 

 

 

(How and when and where they meet doesn’t matter.

 

What matters is that Marius holds out his hand, and that Grantaire takes it.)

**Author's Note:**

> The classical piece Grantaire plays is this one www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vx02vWfSGiU, followed by Hey Jude.
> 
>  
> 
> come say hi: fangirl-squee.tumblr.com/ask


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